


Whenever You Need Me

by LadyCizzle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Maybe - Freeform, More fluff than angst, you'll love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCizzle/pseuds/LadyCizzle
Summary: Post The Final Problem: Mycroft has always been there for Sherlock. Now it's time for Sherlock to return the favor. Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode. Enjoy





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So, I'm weak. Like very weak. I promised myself I would post any more fanfiction for new shows because I have so many that I have yet to finish. But then I saw The Final Problem and my brain exploded. Like I said, I'm weak, especially when it comes to my favorite characters having an emotional crisis. So after watching the episode, this idea came to mind and wouldn't leave me alone. And it brought friends so I'll probably be writing more one-shots filled with Mycroft and Sherlock brotherly love. Have I mentioned I'm weak. Alright enough of my rambling, go and read. I really hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own the show, books, or anything else involving these fictional characters.
> 
> Not beta'd so there might be mistakes. Also, full American here and while I love British television I am so not privy to all words British. If you see any mistakes feel free to point it out but I'm probably not going to change it. Did I mention I sorta lazy.

It's three weeks after finding out that he has a sister when Sherlock got the phone call. He hesitated to it but he knew for a face that the caller would continue to pester him until he answered. With a suffering sigh, he answers the phone with a huff. "What!"

The voice of Mycroft's assistant filters through the phone. "I need your help."

The sound of her voice alerted Sherlock immediately that something was wrong. "Why are you harassing me instead of my brother?" he asked tentatively. The P.A didn't answer immediately, instead she stayed silently allowing seconds to pass between them. He could feel his breath quicken as he waited for the woman to answer.

"I don't know where Mycroft is."

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?"

"He left his office and was driven home; three days ago. No one has seen him since," replied the P.A. sadly over the phone. "Since you are his brother I thought you might have some idea as to where he might be."

"Once again the government has proven themselves to be incompetent," hissed Sherlock disdainfully as he jumped off the sofa. Dropping the phone onto the chair. Sherlock raced to his room, grabbing his trousers and shoes. After he was fully dressed, he made his way back to the living room and picked up the phone. "I expect a car to be waiting for me outside," he instructed as he grabbed his coat.

"It's already there."

After ending his call, he slipped his phone into his pocket when the door suddenly swung open and in walked John. He had forgotten that the doctor had left an hour before to do the shopping. "Good, you're back just in time.

John placed the grocery bags on the table as he looked up at his partner with a furrowed brow. The sound of Sherlock's voice was enough to alert him that something was wrong. "For what exactly?"

"I need you to come with me," announced Sherlock as he made his way out of the apartment without waiting on John's approval.

The groceries immediately forgotten, John followed his best friend out of the flat and down the stairs. Stepping outside John was shocked to see Sherlock climb into the driver seat of a sleek black town car. Climbing into the passenger seat, he buckled his seatbelt before turning towards Sherlock. "Alright Sherlock tell me what's going on, now."

"It's my idiot brother," groaned Sherlock as he ignited the engine and sped onto the road. "He's missing."

********

"Do you really believe that Mycroft is here?" asked John skeptically as both he and Sherlock made their way out of the vehicle. After Sherlock informed him that Mycroft was missing John immediately began to fear the worse. John automatically assumed that someone hoping to gain access to the British government or someone seeking revenge had kidnapped Mycroft. However, as Sherlock kept driving the kidnapping of Mycroft by a terrorist organization seemed less likely. Finally, after forty-five minute drive the car came to a complete stop. Looking out of his window John saw that they were parked in front of a slightly run down two story home. The house and area surrounding it did not look like it would occupy someone as prim and proper as Mycroft.

"Don't let the outside appearance fool you," Sherlock answered with a nod towards the lawn covered with overgrown grass and weeds. "Mycroft purchased this house many years ago under a false name. He comes here when he needs to shut out the rest of the world. No one knows about this place except for me. Not even the people he works for knows he owns this property."

"Well now we both know about this place," pointed out John with a small smile.

Sherlock paused for a moment and frowned. "I suppose you're right. I guess he will have to sell this house and find him a new one seeing how it's been compromised," he stated as he pulled out his lock pick and set about unlocking the door.

John rolled his eyes at the statement, however, he fully believed that Mycroft would do as Sherlock stated. All to keep his private properties private. "Yes, because that's not completely dramatic at all," he scoffed sarcastically as Sherlock pushed opened the door and he followed him the detective inside.

Darkness surrounded the pair as they entered the home. John, having no clue as to where he was going simply followed Sherlock's footsteps, remaining as quiet as possible. However, just before they reached the end of the hall light filled the room. Turning his head John took in the appearance of the room. Sherlock had been right. The living room was beautiful decorated and appeared nothing like the outside. However, the sight of broken glass and splinters of wood on the floor caused him to inhale slightly. Food stains covered the opposite wall while the food itself lied on the carpet. The entire room smelt of alcohol and ash. He turned his head again to see Mycroft sitting on the sofa, head cocked to the side with a book in his lap as if he was ignoring their presence.

"Well at least you used the door this time," sighed Mycroft wearily without looking up, his eyes steadfast on the book in his lap. Although his brother and best friend tried to enter his home undetected the government official was immediately aware of their arrival. He heard the car the moment it pulled up in his driveway. "However, why you found it necessary to break-in when you have a key I will never know."

John huffed at the new information as he turned to his best friend, frowning. "Wait a minute, you have a key?"

"Yes," answered Sherlock.

"Then why did you-"

Sherlock smirked playfully. "Have to keep my skills sharp John."

"Of course of you do," groaned Mycroft, closing the book and looking up at his visitors. "You're childish antics never cease to amaze me."

The consulting detective remained quiet as he took in his brother's appearance. Devoid of his usual pristine tailored suits, his brother sat before him in a pair of old Christmas themed pajamas with a matching shirt gifted to him by their mother many years ago. His hair unruly against his forehead with dark circles under his eyes. "Having lived with you for years I know you're a better housekeeper than this," drawled Sherlock as he made his way into the living space and flopped down on the chair opposite of his brother.

Mycroft once again sighed as he turned to his brother. "What do you want Sherlock?" he asked tiresomely.

"Your assistant called. She says you haven't been seen or heard from in three days."

"I am simply taking a break from the outside world. There's no need for anyone to be alarmed."

"There is when you disappear without alerting the people who are in charge of keeping you safe as to where you are going."

Mycroft could not help but roll his eyes. All he wanted was to be alone and as usual, his brother was keen on being impossible. He was starting to regret bring to the house when the younger man needed a safe place to detox all those years ago. "I don't need a keeper Sherlock," Mycroft sneered, shaking his head.

"No, I suppose you don't."

"Thank you so if you could leave-"

"But good thing I'm not here as your keeper," interrupted Sherlock with a coy smile. "I'm here as your brother. Disappearing for three days without telling a soul. Highly unlike you Mycroft."

Mycroft chuckled haughtily. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think brother-mine."

"I know you well enough to know this isn't like you."

"If I didn't know any better Sherlock I would think you were worried about me,"

"I suppose I am."

His mouth parted slightly at the statement as he looked towards his brother. His stare intense, looking for any sign that his brother was mocking him but he could not find one. It appeared that Sherlock was actually concerned about his well-being and truly wanted to help him. Still, Mycroft continued to reign in his emotions and scoffed bitterly. "Is this the part where I break down and cry on your shoulder?" his mocked, sarcasm dripping from voice.

Sherlock, however, refused to take the bait. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively as he shook his head. "If you could refrain from that action I would most greatly appreciate it but if that is what you require then I am here for you," he retorted.

"Well seeing as how I have no desire to neither of those things I really don't see the need of you being here."

"Mycroft-"

"Sherlock, please, for once in your life stop fighting me and do as I ask. Leave!" demanding Mycroft loudly. He watched as Sherlock jumped up from the chair and for a brief moment, the government official believed that his brother would take heed to his demand. The victory, however, came to a screeching halt when, instead of leaving as asked, Sherlock began pacing the floor

"You want me to leave," Sherlock repeated brazenly as he paced. "Is that what you want?"

Mycroft scowled. "It most certainly is."

He stopped and turned to his brother, a coy smile on his face. "No."

"No."

"No," he repeated gleefully. "I don't think I will."

"You are an insufferable child who's incapable of doing what he's told," spat Mycroft disdainfully as he made an effort to stand but found himself too weak to do so.

"And you're an imbecile who's incapable of asking for help," retorted Sherlock with a roll of his eyes, saying nothing as his brother tried and failed to stand up on his own. More than likely because of too much alcohol and not enough nourishment. Further proof that Mycroft needed his help.

"I don't need help. I'm fine."

"Yes, fine," Sherlock chuckled as he flounced around the room. "That's why you're sitting alone, in the dark surrounded by broken glass and wood, and smelling like a brewery and your disgusting low-tar cigarettes. Not to mention the fact that you have not slept in twenty-two hours or bathed in twenty-four. And let's not forget that you haven't had a meal in two and a half days."

"Transport, isn't that what you say," mocked Mycroft dismissively.

Shaking his head Sherlock continued on his rampage. "You've lost nearly two stones. You need to eat, bathe, and sleep. Not necessarily in that order."

Mycroft remained in his chair, frowning at his brother's deductions. "Thank you brother for you most astute deductions but as you can see I am beginning to lose what little patience I have and refuse to be involved any longer," he said angrily, reaching for his book once more and intending to ignore his brother's drabbles. Perhaps if he stopped responding Sherlock would finally take his leave.

Refusing to be ignored, Sherlock grabbed the book from Mycroft's hands and threw it on the floor, completely ignoring Mycroft's heated glare. "For years I have acted like you don't matter to me. I have pretended that my life would be better if you weren't in it but when faced with an opportunity to end your life I knew there was no way I could have ever pulled that trigger. You are my brother Mycroft. I care about you."

"I don't deserve your affections Sherlock. Everything happened because of me. Innocent lives were lost all because I thought I had it all under control. I thought I could outsmart the devil himself but it turned out I was merely a pawn like everyone else."

"The path to hell is paved with good intentions."

"Yes, and I am the one who led us there. What kind of brother does that make me?"

"A good one."

"I can assure you Sherlock that a good brother does not keep his little sister imprisoned for a multitude of years and lie about her death."

"You did the best you could."

A bitter laugh escaped as he shook his head passively. "And yet we all know that it was nowhere near good enough. It would appear I have a warped version of the Midas touch where instead of gold I destroy everything I touch."

"How can you say that? I am alive because of you."

"I fear you are giving me too much credit brother mine."

Suddenly Sherlock dropped to his knees, kneeling in front of his older brother with a frown on his face. He reached out and grabbed his hands, holding them tightly in his. He watched as Mycroft's eyes widened in confusion, his brow furrowed as he wondered exactly what he was about to say. "And I fear I have never given you enough," Sherlock finally admitted somberly. "My whole life you have protecting me, keeping me safe. The nights you retrieved me from those drug dens. Never leaving my side while I lied in the hospital after every overdose. Helping me through detox and sending me to the best rehabilitation facilities money could buy all to keep me clean."

"Sherlock-"

Nevertheless, Sherlock continued, squeezing Mycroft's hand tighter and pulling it close to his chest. "I called you cruel names. Vehemently protested against you and treated you as if you were the enemy. I spat at your kindness. And yet…yet your affection for me never once wavered and neither did your loyalty. You've always been there for me and now it is my turn to do the same for you."

"I'm supposed to be the strong one. It's my job to take care of you, not the other way around."

"You've been taking care of me...this entire family alone for your entire life. It's time to let someone else shoulder the burden."

He could feel his mask cracking as the walls he so carefully built to contain his emotions slowly began to crumble. Mycroft suddenly felt like they were children again. Back during a time when Sherlock freely and often gave his brother affection. To a time where he was the triumphant hero in Sherlock's fantasy instead of the soul-less, overbearing villain. It took every ounce of will power he had not to cry. Instead, he reached out, resting his palm against Sherlock's cheek. "Oh Sherlock."

"I need you," admitted Sherlock, cradling the hand that rested against his cheek. "Deep down I have always needed you."

Those words were enough to send him over the edge allowing a few tears to slide down his face that he did nothing to stop. Instead, letting out a hearty laugh as he used his free hand to ruffle his brother's hair. "I feel I share the same sentiment as you, as foolish as it sounds."

"That was bloody beautiful."

The moment broken as both brothers moved away from each other at the sound of John's teasing voice. Much to their chagrin they had completely forgotten the doctor was even in the room. While Sherlock blushed embarrassedly, Mycroft simply sniffed hauntingly and folded his arms stiffly across his chest. "I trust Dr. Watson that what you have just witnessed will not be discussed with anyone outside this room," he said threateningly.

John continued to smile gleefully as he watched the pair. "Okay first I highly doubt anyone would believe me if I told them about this moment and second, you know it's okay to call me John. I mean seriously, it's been five years already."

"Very well then John," uttered Mycroft begrudgingly. "Thank you for accompanying my brother in his efforts to locate me. You have my deepest gratitude."

"No problem."

"Now that you have stopped being an idiot will you finally allow me to help you?" asked Sherlock heatedly taking a stand next to Mycroft.

"As much as I would like to Sherlock I believe that it is task I will have difficulty achieving."

"Well lucky for the British Government I know someone with experience on taking care of a Holmes," smirked John playfully as he made his over to the eldest Holmes. Grabbing the government official by the arm, he helped him stand and began leading him towards the stairs. "Off to the shower you go and then to sleep for a couple hours. While you're sleeping Sherlock and I will tidy up a bit."

Sherlock frowned at his partner. "We will."

"Yes Sherlock we will."

"Fine," huffed Sherlock as he bended down and picked up the book he had thrown to floor. He didn't mind cleaning if it meant that Mycroft was getting the rest he needed. It would be the least he could do to ensure his brother's well-being.

********

"You're up."

At the sound of his brother's voice, Mycroft's eyes fluttered open as he slowly awoke from his slumber. Rubbing his hand over his face, he frowned slightly at the sight of Sherlock sitting across from him with his hands underneath his chin. "Have you been watching me sleep the entire time?" asked the government official curiously.

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Sherlock flustered as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in. Truth be told he had been in Mycroft's room since the older man had fallen asleep but refused to admit it, even if his brother did deduce that he was in fact lying. "John's made dinner."

He had no clue as to how long he had been asleep but his body felt better and his mind clear. He could smell the food Sherlock was referring too and quickly knew what it was. "I do not believe that soup out of a can would constitute as 'making dinner'," snorted Mycroft as he slowly lifted himself up. A smiled spread across his face when Sherlock reached out a hand to steady him.

Sherlock frowned and helped his brother stand. "Your refrigerator is empty and soup was the only edible item in your cupboard. You need to eat."

Mycroft huffed but did nothing to remove Sherlock's hand from his shoulder. "And I will," he agreed.

"And then you need to gather your things. It's time for you to come home."

Tentatively he gave his brother a nod of confirmation. "And I shall. Someone needs to be around to keep a proper eye on you," Mycroft smiled softly and gave the hand on his shoulder a quick and firm squeeze.

"Good," was all Sherlock could say the pair of them walked out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Totally sappy I know but I'm a sucker for sap, cornrolls, and manicured toes. And these upcoming one-shots that I will be writing will also be full of sap. Maybe a little angst but mostly fluff. You guys know I'm weak. Anyways thanks for reading. If you liked let me know by dropping me a line. Until next time,
> 
> Love Trumps Hate
> 
> LadyCizzle


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